Knock it Down
by The Shipping Queen
Summary: What would Rumple's departure have been like if he decided not to wake Belle back up? One-shot. AU.


Title: Knock it Down

Summary: What would Rumple's departure have been like if he decided not to wake Belle back up? One-shot. AU.

Ship: If you have to ask, it does not matter anymore! (RumBelle, or whatever you want to call it)

A/N: I've been thinking of this since I saw the episode. Decided to actually write it and see where it went. It ended up gloriously long, of course, but I hope you will enjoy it anyway. Oh, and also, it does go against some of the Belle/Lacey philosophies that are circulating. I mean no disrespect by it, this is just how I prefer to think of it :) I wrote this as a prelude to a promotion for a blog my cousin and I run on tumblr, called TheBellTowerLibrary, to give everyone a sample of my writing.  
Please enjoy it!

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This had to be the world's most epic hang-over. Not only did she have black-out spots over the last couple days, but evidently, she had become some person named "Belle" and fell in love with this crazy-weird guy who had an obsession with teacups. If it were just him, she would say that he was probably a nut-case who thought she looked like a deceased wife or something, but it wasn't. The hospital workers all called her that. That girl who brought her books called her that. The doctor who discharged her said that it had only been a couple days since she lost her memory, but this "Belle" had lived out a lifetime, including developing feelings for Rumplestiltskin.

What did she even drink that night? Probably a few glasses of 'whatever the hell someone else ordered for me.' Her usual.

Yet, she now found herself waking up in a bed they'd both slept in. The spot beside her was empty, though she didn't really care about anything but the headache that was splitting her skull. Too much white wine- though, not enough that she'd forgotten the previous night. She hadn't a clue if it was morning or afternoon. A wave of nausea hit her and she realized that throwing up was in her imminent future, so she struggled out of bed and weakly stumbled into the hallway, then to the bathroom. The door was already open, to her slight relief. She slid down on the floor beside the toilet, since she didn't feel much like standing, and gagged into the bowl as her stomach muscles clenched.

Yuck.

Mere seconds later, there came a light tap at the bathroom door. She didn't have to look to know who it was. He knocked even though this was his house and the door was open.

"I've brought you something,"

It was probably food. She shook her head, there was no chance she was interested in eating right now. Gag.

"It'll help with that hang-over,"

Now interested, she turned her head to see what he had. In his hand was a large teacup- in fact, it looked more like a bowl with a handle than a cup- with steam rising from the top. He hobbled over, extending it towards her.

"Is it magic?"

"Indeed it is. I didn't have all the ingredients for it. Hopefully, it'll still work," Lacey looked down into the ceramic to see a transparent black liquid. It smelled like something oddly familiar, yet she couldn't quite...put her finger on it...she felt an intense nostalgia, as though she were thinking of a past memory, except that she saw nothing in her mind. Perhaps the smell of someone's perfume? It had her in a daze for a few brief seconds before she took a drink out of it. It tasted like mint, pepper, and...maybe...cinnamon? She could feel it traveling down to her stomach, where it fizzed. This was where the sensation became really strange; the liquid became cool and soothed the awful belly ache while the heat rose out of it. The muscles in her chest tightened- as though she had an excessive amount of air in her lungs- and when she forced it out, a cloud of steam came rolling from her mouth. "Blowing hot air?" he joked lightly. She giggled and took the cup from his hand. "I guess I should have warned you. It'll probably make your mouth hot for a while,"

Lacey drank it again. After a few sips, her hang-over was pretty well absolved and she was only drinking it because she was fascinated with the feeling it gave her and she liked blowing the steam out.

"Magic is cool," she told him, handing the cup back.

"Yes. I'd certainly say so," he took it from her, then leaned the cane against the cabinet and switched the utensil to his other hand so he could help her up.

"How did you know I was hung-over?"

"I figured you might be, since you were drunk last night,"

She nodded. "I, uh...wasn't..." he looked keenly interested in knowing what she was having such difficulty saying; "...wasn't...trying to get drunk..." was she defending herself to him? "I just...remember being able to drink a lot more than that,"

He gave her a one-armed hug around the shoulders. Maybe she was embarrassed about it, somehow? He never knew Belle as one to get embarrassed about much of anything. "These things happen," and he said that as though he hadn't told her several times the night before that he thought she may have had too much. "Do you remember anything from last night?" he released his grip.

"I didn't forget anything,"

For a moment, it seemed like he had another question, and she knew what it might be, but she didn't want to just come out and say it again without prompting. Only...he didn't ask. "Good," was all he said. "Well, now that you're feeling better, how about some breakfast?"

She nodded. If this man were anything like the others she fooled around with, he wouldn't have pushed her away last night. He wouldn't have insisted on her wearing pajamas to bed, and she wouldn't have woken up wearing them exactly as they had been when she put them on. And, in her memories, that behavior from men never really bothered her, but- she admitted to herself, and no one else- that it wasn't so awful to be treated like a person. Lacey knew that this overt kindness and respect was what turned her off to him in the very beginning, and now she found that she kind of liked it.

Go figure.

"I'm not terribly fond of these modern-day appliances," he pulled a carton of eggs out of the frige; "Nevertheless, scrambled eggs are easy enough to make,"

The talk of the town now was that, evidently, there was supposed to be some kind of world-ending or disaster. Rumple tried to keep it from her, but she'd been with him at his shop for the last couple days and there was only so much one could help to over-hear.

Why was he trying to keep it from her?

"So, uh, if you have so much magic, why can't you bring your son back?"

It seemed that everything about his entire being froze in place. "It's not that simple. You see, there is no magic strong enough to bring back the dead,"

"Not even true love?"

"No. Death isn't a curse. It's...more like a necessity, really," he cracked the eggs into a bowl. "If it was, I don't believe anyone who's ever lived would have died- and that would pose an even bigger problem,"

"Oh," she was quiet for a few moments while he stirred the eggs with some milk and heated up the pan. "It sounds like you've already given up," he gave her a cautious glance out of the side of his face.

"Long ago, I might have agreed with you," somehow, he managed to keep a neutral expression through the conversation topic. "But, since then, I've seen people raised from the dead. Even if I could do it, it's not a pretty sight,"

"I see," she tapped her fingertips on the table. "So, it's not that you can't do it, it's because you don't want to,"

He pulled the pan off the eye as the eggs finished cooking and grabbed a couple plates. That statement could have been a jab at him; he wasn't sure, so he didn't respond for the time being.

"You're an interesting man, Mr. Gold," she called him by that name teasingly, with a little grin.

"Is that a good thing?"

"I wouldn't stick around if I was bored," that expression fell after a brief flicker, and the next thing she said sounded a lot more like Belle than Lacey. "Anyways...I'm sorry. About your son,"

He wondered if he heard her because she was trying to wake up, or because Lacey was bound to have traces of her, or if it was because the girl in front of him had the same...well...everything. Same brown hair. Same beautiful eyes. Same accent you wouldn't soon forget. Go back to sleep, Belle. The sympathetic expression vanished then, replaced again by that hard, cold gaze. Rumple set the plate of eggs down in front of her and got her a glass of orange juice. "Thank you, Lacey. Now, how about if we enjoy our breakfast?"

Out of curiosity, she glanced over at the clock. "It's three in the afternoon,"

"High tea, then?"

She laughed softly. "Don't you have to run your shop?"

"I closed early. I needed time to brew you that tonic,"

She couldn't respond with words, but she didn't need to. He saw the look on her face. That, in turn, made him curious about what her memories were like from here.

"So far," he started; "I know what sort of music you like, and what sort of alcohol you like, and even what sort of men you like," he motioned towards himself with sarcastic confidence, to which she laughed again, holding her hand over her mouth to make sure she kept the food in; "Why don't you tell me a little more about what your life is like?"

She swallowed her food. "Well, what do you want to know?"

"Hm," he considered. "Perhaps you could start with your family,"

Lacey shrugged. "Not much to say. There is my dad, but...there isn't a whole lot I'd like to say about him,"

"I see. So, the two of you aren't very close?"

"Nope,"

Rumplestiltskin sat back and looked at her, taking a sharp breath in. Most of the cursed residents had maintained basically the same relationship with their families- with a few notable exceptions. The Widow Lucas and Ruby were grandparent and grandchild, and in spite of their constant arguments, they loved each other very much. Belle had made that sacrifice out of love for her father- her whole family, really, and yet Lacey was looking at him like she wouldn't care if the man was dead.

"What else do you want to know?"

"Your friends- other people you care about?"

She considered that one over a forkful of eggs. "Well, there's Ruby. I hang out with her sometimes. Ella used to come hang around from time to time- she didn't like the White Rabbit too well, either, though. ...I've had a few boyfriends, but no one who ever lasted- obviously,"

"I find that difficult to understand, Ms. French,"

She shrugged. "I'm not looking for love,"

"Sometimes, you don't have to look. True love just finds you,"

"Hm," she agreed and nodded as she ate the last bit of her food.

"You're an interesting person, Lacey,"

"Thanks! I'm glad,"

He smiled at her, impressed at how she took even those neutral statements as compliments so easily, at how she didn't even question how he meant it.

"I'm glad I gave you a chance,"

"I'm glad you did, too. Never thought anyone would enjoy that...cruelty,"

"Because Belle didn't, right?" it sounded accusatory, but she was smiling. "I'm not like her, you know. I'm not...nice. I mean, I can try to be, but...I'm not,"

"Well, as you know, I'm not a very nice person, either,"

"I don't really think you're mean," she drank the last of her juice.

It was time, yet again, for Rumplestiltskin to be blown away by something she said. Both Belle and Lacey had a knack for shocking him to the core. "What exactly do you think, then?"

She reached her hand across the table and grabbed his shoulder, standing up a little off the seat. "I think...you just don't like for things to get in your way," the look on her face was nothing but fondness, an expression that reminded him of Belle yet again and he wasn't sure if it was a painful reminder or a happy reality; "I think, if there's a roadblock, you...you...knock it down. And I like that very much,"

She held her grip on his shoulder for much, much longer than he expected. It was a little rough, but he didn't mind that. He couldn't, for the life of him, come up with anything to say, and she gradually released him.

It was a happy reality. A happy reality, most definitely.

David was right. It didn't matter what kind of music she liked or what kind of alcohol she drank or what clubs she went to. She was still the person he loved.

...Even if she wasn't the person he needed right now.

"I'll get the dishes," he offered, breaking the silence as he stood up. She handed him hers and he headed for the kitchen with them. "Well, then, why don't we go out to the White Rabbit for a while this evening?"

"Uh...yeah, alright, but...well...why don't we go see a movie? We can see a movie first,"

He looked up from the sink and nodded at her, a little surprised at the suggestion that didn't include alcohol. "Sure. We'll go see whatever you want,"

Lacey quietly watched him while he did the dishes. When he finished and turned to dry his hands on a towel, she spoke again,

"Why didn't you just make me love you? With magic,"

"Because magic can't make you fall into true love. It can make you think you have, but, it can't give you the real thing,"

"And you didn't want something fake," she slid over on her seat, as though to get closer to him even though it was only a few centimeters.

Well, yes, that was certainly part of it. The other part was that he wanted to break the curse on her memories. He didn't say that, though. He just nodded.

He didn't know what to say to that, so he just waited for her to say something else. She didn't, although he saw a look of realization on her face and wondered what conclusion she had come to. "Anyways, I'll call and find out what movies are playing,"

"Sounds good,"

He wasn't surprised when she picked a bloody, gory action movie, or when she complained about the lack of alcohol being served at the theater ("I prefer rum in my Coke," was what she said, to which he replied "You'll have to settle for vanilla"). He was surprised, though, when he could tell by her gaze that she was enjoying the romance between the hero and his sidekick.

You never really know what's in someone's heart until you get to know them.

She didn't rush out of the theater as he expected when the movie was over, either. Instead, she lagged behind to walk with him.

"That was exciting,"

"Yes, it was," he looked directly into her eyes when he spoke. It was something else she'd learned to like. "And now, we can go get you that rum you wanted for your coke,"

"...uhh...actually..." she leaned in closer to his neck, not minding the small crowd of people also filing out of the movie theater; "...I think...I'd rather just go home right now," and, to him, that was rather brazen behavior- but what did he expect? Belle herself had been dauntless with her feelings. Lacey was just a different sort of bold.

And he liked that. "You sure you're sober?"

She smirked and elbowed him in the side.

The two of them got into the car, and once they were going, Lacey faced him.

"Did Belle ever use magic?"

He wasn't sure of how to answer that for a minute. She loved watching his face as he mentally grinded his gears.

"Yes, you could say she has,"

And a mischevious smile crept up her face. "Cool," she lightly trailed her fingers up his arm and touched his neck, not caring that he was driving.

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When it came to men, her favorite thing was to strip away the man until he was nothing but a beast. A monster. An animal working on primal instinct. With Rumplestiltskin...he was beastly in all the right ways.

Every. single. one.

She rolled over on the bed, letting him cover her chest with the sheet- as she didn't care to. At the moment, she was trembling lightly as her body tried to decide whether it was hot or cold. Usually, she felt a few pangs of disgust with herself, somewhere so far down that she didn't even know she felt it until the one time she didn't. Her breathing still erratic, she looked over at a completely exhausted Rumplestiltskin, whose eyes had already closed. Lacey grunted softly as she moved. She felt "clean," for lack of better words, but only as clean as one could be with all those bodily fluids on her. As she shifted, she looked down at Rumple, who was trying to get his eyes to open- probably to talk. Eventually, he gave in. She hovered in place for a while, just staring at him.

If she knew herself at all, she wasn't the type to fall in love.

And she especially wouldn't ever have fallen in love in the span of a couple days.

Not with a crazy, pathetic man with an obsession with teacups.

"...I really do love you, Rumplestiltskin," it was the only time she called him by his full name. She broke eye contact, knowing that he was giving her that look- that look like he was some confused little puppy dog who'd just been kicked- and that face made her feel so guilty, and she didn't want to have to feel guilty for loving him. She didn't wait for him to say anything before she got up and sped away to go take a shower.

Maybe she didn't know herself as well as she thought.

Unbeknownst to him, Lacey had figured out that Rumple believed she was under a curse. She wasn't exactly sure of what kind- if eavesdropping served it was one that changed her memories. But they had kissed each other plenty of times in the last forty-five minutes or so and she didn't feel any different. Should she have expected to?

After all, she already knew that he loved someone else.

She was tired from the evening, too, so once she'd showered and dried off, she reclined on the bed- where she could tell he was sleeping for real, this time. Pretty soon, she copied him.

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She awoke about two hours later than him the next morning. It didn't bother her to have to get her own food together- cereal was fine- and put her own clothes on. But, she didn't want to leave the house right away. Right now, she wanted to be left alone, so she stayed there, lazing around the house in pajamas that supposedly belonged to that girl named Belle. They were comfortable- really not her style, though.

After she was done being lazy, she decided she wanted to head down to the shop.

Rumple had given her explicit permission to enter through the back, and that was what she did. She entered quietly, and decided to eavesdrop on the conversation going on in the other room;

"So she found the solution to the memory problem? Today? In the nick of time, before we all die?"

Another man echoed her thoughts, "Die? Who's dying?"

"She's been working on it all along. Then when she had to transform August back to Pinocchio, she found the ingredient she needed—a hair from Pinocchio's head. Someone who returned to who he should be. Someone who wasn't cursed," that voice sounded familiar. It probably was, though she couldn't place it.

"So you're gonna wake your friend up, to tell him he's about to die?"

"I don't want that!"

Rumple watched the way Mr. Clark reacted. He may not have cared much for the man, but he knew he certainly didn't want that for Belle- or Lacey- or whatever name she was calling herself.

These people were stupid. Intoxicatingly stupid.

"Shut it, Clark! He wants to know who he is and be with his family, no matter how much time he has left,"

But who were they to decide that?

"Not if I'm gonna die!"

"Take him back to Granny's. We'll do it there,"

"Hey! Hey guys, if I don't have a family, will I still die?"

"I asked her to make a second dose. This is for you,"

Rumplestiltskin was surprised by the gift, but unimpressed nevertheless. They may be selfish enough to bring him back for their own sakes just to die, but he wasn't.

Or at least...he didn't want to be.

"Well, what am I supposed to do with that?"

"Belle once helped remind me who I was. I've never forgotten. I wanna return to favor. Don't let her die as Lacey,"

She waited for them to leave before coming out. "What was that about?"

Mr. Gold looked down at his hand. "Oh, it was nothing," he said, looking at her and setting a vial with blue liquid in a cabinet. She could tell there was some kind of battle going on inside him.

Why didn't he tell her, or ask her, if she wanted to remember?

She didn't ask.

"How about a drink?" he poured them both a little of...something he had lying around.

She shrugged and agreed.

"To the end of the world," he said. Lacey still had very little understanding of what was happening, but he didn't explain. "Come on. It'll help numb it,"

"I'll, uh...I'll drink to that," she scoffed and started to pick up the glass, but it fell out of her hand. "Oh- oh, I'm so sorry- here, I got it, I got it," Lacey grabbed an old rag Rumple kept up on a counter and pulled it over to clean it up.

"S-stop. Stop!" it upset him. "Put that down,"

"It's just an old rag," of course. She didn't know anything about Baelfire or his shawl, just that supposedly his son had died- and she only knew that through listening to what people were saying in this town.

"It belonged to someone very important!" he took it; "You wouldn't understand,"

"I said 'I'm sorry,'"

She was pretty good at hiding it, but he could tell he'd upset her a little. He'd gotten angry unnecessarily with her. And she hadn't actually said she was sorry until that moment, but he said nothing about it. He just moved the shawl back onto the counter. Then, he gave her a weird look, and walked back over to that cabinet.

Perhaps she was every bit as lovable as Belle. Different, but equal. But he, and everyone else in this town, was about to die. He just wanted to see her usual self one more time. He needed someone to wrap her arms around him and tell him it was alright.

He picked up the blue sack with pieces of that teacup in it, and looked to Lacey.

And he remembered how Mr. Clark protested, and how Leroy forced it on him, and how much it just didn't make sense to wake someone up just to let them know they were dying.

No. He wasn't going to be that selfish. He set it back down and shut the door.

"No," he heaved a sigh, picking up the bottle again. "I'm sorry. Let's not fight. Here, I'll pour you another,"

She furrowed her brows at him. "What was that you were doing?"

"...it was nothing," he answered, re-filling the little shotglass that was in front of her.

This time, she lifted hers up. "To the end of the world," she said, and he clinked his glass against hers.

"I'll drink to that,"

And then, they both did.

She hadn't come over here to drink. She'd come by because it was the second coolest place in town and because, today, she had a few questions for him. Things had gotten so somber that she thought she may not bring them up, but the silence was overwhelming for her, so she did.

"So...uh..." she drew circles around the rim of her glass; "What kind of magic did Belle use?"

As soon as he heard her name, he poured himself another glass. "True love's kiss," he said, non-verbally offering to pour her more alcohol. She nodded. "She used it on me,"

"How did someone put a curse on the Dark One?"

He didn't respond right away- he needed time to piece together a reply. "That's the thing," he explained; "being the Dark One, in magical terms, is a curse," with that, he took a large mouthful of the alcohol and just swallowed. Yet, perhaps talking about her was the next best thing to having her here with him. Although he knew Lacey and Belle were supposed to be one in the same, he also had too much pride about showing someone like Lacey his feelings- he could only just barely do that with Belle, anyways.

"But...aren't you still the Dark One?"

"Yes, I am,"

"I thought you said she broke the curse,"

"No," he sipped this time, dizzy from the large gulp he'd taken. "Not quite. There are some stipulations on True Love's Kiss,"

"Sounds like there are 'stipulations' everywhere," she rolled her eyes.

"There are. All power has its limits,"

She took a sip out of the glass herself, then sat there and swirled the cold glass around in her hand, being as careful as she could be not to spill. It got quiet again. "What are the rules?"

"Number one- the feeling must be mutual. Number two- the love must be compatible. It won't work if, say, one loves the other as a partner and the other loves them as a friend. And, number three- both parties must believe in the mutual love," he finished the drink. "It was my fault it didn't work, not Belle's. In fact, she was so strong that...that it almost worked,"

"So...why 'almost,' then?"

"Because I 'almost' believed her,"

She took another sip out of the glass, for once not feeling really interested in it. "The way you talk about her...you still love her, don't you? ...I mean, that much was obvious,"

"Yes," he straightened his spine. "I love Belle," as he spoke, he grabbed her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. "And I also love you,"

Rumple had come to think so far that perhaps the reason why she hadn't regained her memories was because...maybe it wasn't really a curse. Maybe Lacey was a blessing in disguise. He had to try hard not to doubt her feelings for him.

"You sure you're sober?" she joked with him. "I know you still think I'm Belle. You think I'm...under a curse, don't you?"

"Who told you that?" the question sounded absolutely sincere, as though the suggestion was ridiculous. She didn't fall for it, though.

"No one did. I, uh...I figured it out,"

He looked at her for a few seconds, just taking in what she'd said. He didn't lie. He didn't even try to cover up the truth. "Do you realize you told me just the other day that you're not smart- or any of the other things I told you _you were_ over the phone?"

"It was obvious,"

"Not to everyone," he took the last drink remaining in his glass. "You, dear Lacey, are just too smart for your own good. Or...at least mine,"

She really didn't think she was that smart, but she didn't argue with him about it. "There is no 'Belle.' At least not in me,"

And he knew that wasn't true, but he didn't argue with her about it. "Perhaps that's alright," he said, standing to go rinse out his cup. "You were right to say that, at first, I thought you had been cursed- but since I've gotten to know you, my ideas about that have changed," he placed a hand on her shoulder, this time gently. "You aren't a curse. You're a blessing," Rumple knew that trying to explain her symbiosis with Belle would not be accepted well, so he stopped there. But he had figured it out, too- that Lacey was the part of her that loved the monster, the dark part, in him. It was the part that made it possible for her to really, truly love him.

"Well..." she turned her head, showing him a coy smile, "I don't know about this 'Belle,' but I'm glad she didn't change you,"

He didn't get to say much else, and she didn't respond either. The look on her face indicated that she really didn't believe him. She blew it off. He didn't try to convince her. From outside, they both heard a strange sound. A slightly tipsy Rumplestiltskin left through the back to see what was going on.

All the plants began to slowly grow backwards, out of the way.

The self-destruct had been stopped.

"Lacey," she came out behind him as he spoke her name; "Look,"

She watched as the foliage shrank up from where it was growing.

"Does this mean we're not gonna die?"

"It certainly appears that way," he looked at her. "Good. I was starting to think death might cut into my social life,"

She moved her mouth to ask about the potion, but couldn't get the words out.

"There's only one way to know for sure. We have to find Emma and the others," once he knew for sure, he thought, he'd give her the option of drinking that potion.

The girl followed him out of the shop. The next group of people they met were in a state of disarray.

"Without it, there's no way to follow!"

"There has to be. We can't let them just take Henry!"

"They've taken Henry?" Mr. Gold was distracted by the conversation topic.

"Yeah. You're the Dark One, do something,"

"Gold, help us," that one was more polite. Lacey folded her arms.

"There's no way. I spent a lifetime trying to cross worlds to find my son," now, that one she hadn't heard too much about. "There's no way in this world without a portal,"

"So, that's it? Henry's gone forever? I refuse to believe that," Regina looked as though she might boil over with rage.

Out of boredom with the discussion, she'd started looking out into the harbor, when she saw a ship moving around in the water. "What's that?" she asked, and they all looked out with her.

"Hook," answered the blonde woman, and the entire group- herself and Rumple included- rushed towards the dock it was steering at. It took Rumple a little longer to catch up since he had drunk so much. He wasn't exactly drunk, but he wasn't exactly sober, either.

"Well, that's great, Hook, but how will we follow them?"

"Leave that to me," Mr. Gold- you know, she hadn't ever considered what his first name might be- stepped up near the stairs that rested on the concrete. Lacey stood to his side and a little behind, staring at him with her arms crossed.

"Then let's do it,"

The whole group of them ran up the stairs and onto the boat. Rumplestiltskin turned around to face her.

"I guess this is 'goodbye,' Lacey," he said, lifting his arm up slightly into the air.

"'Goodbye?' What do you mean? Can't I come with you?" she smiled up one side of her mouth. "I heard pirates brew the best rum,"

"That one's true, mate," Hook called down to her from the top, where he evidently heard her.

"No. I'm afraid you can't, Lacey. The town is...is no longer safe," he thought something over, then added; "I know you don't understand a lot of what's going on around here, especially now. But I need you to stay here- to help me. Please," he pulled a tiny piece of paper out of his pocket and handed it to her. "Belle was able to use magic, so I know for certain that you can, too. This is a cloaking spell. I need you to use it to shield the town,"

She looked down at the paper, wondering how it got in there, and raised her brow at it. "What exactly will it do?"

"It'll make it impossible for anyone to find this town,"

"...o...okay, but...if it's impossible for anyone, how 're you going to get back?"

She could tell by the look on his face that he wished she hadn't asked that.

"It's...it's complicated, Lacey," he didn't have time to explain it all, to make it make sense to her, so he didn't try. "Just, please, do as I've asked- alright?"

She looked at him with a blank, cold stare. And then, she said; "Alright,"

"Good. Thank you very much," she followed him to the edge of the steps. "This is my exit," Rumple turned to face her. "You've done so much for me, Ms. French," he stopped there, though what he wanted to add was 'I wish I had a second life that I could offer to you.' "I know that you don't understand that now, but..." he reached his fingers up into the thin air. A small cloud of teacup pieces gathered together in his hand, brought together by his magic.

It had a chip in it. Why would such a rich man keep a chipped cup?

"There's a vial in the cabinet I store my personal items in in that shop," he said, handing it to her. "If you choose to remember everything...pour that liquid into here, and drink it. That's very important," she looked at the cup with more confusion than she'd been dealing with a few seconds ago.

"So that's what that was,"

"Indeed,"

She looked down, her gaze trailing off to the side. With her arms folded, she told him; "You'd better come back,"

He got nearer to her face. She could see a small, forced smile out of the corner of her eye. "I love you too, darling," he said; "but, I have to go now," and he kissed her on the cheek.

Then, he turned and walked away so fast that he didn't notice.

The girl stood there in a complete and total daze. Her brain went blank for a minute, and then started filling up with memories. Electric blue surged all through her body. She tightened her grip on the teacup so it wouldn't fall. If she hadn't been stuck standing there in that short, hypnotic trance, Lacey was planning to stow away on the boat and let the whole town go to hell- but, she soon found, that she was not actually Lacey. And the reason everyone called her 'Belle' was that it was her name.

"Wait," she tried to call to him. "Rumplestiltskin, wait," Belle knew she was calling after a boat- a boat that was already moving on. "I believed," she squeaked quietly to herself, covering her face with the heel of her hand; "I remember. ..." the Jolly Roger neared the horizon; "...I love you..." she added, and she let herself be over-taken with tears.


End file.
